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I wish to start this month with a scream.
I have to much to do, with not enough time to do it in.
Extensive lists of things I haven't finished yet.
Sheets of unaccomplished tasks.
And it's getting longer
And my brain is melting more and more and more.
What makes it worse is I don't want to do half the things that need to be done. It's so much harder to start something you know you won't be able to finish to a good standard.
I want to finish this entry with a sigh of despair.
In your mind at night,
It feels normal like the day,
But it's really not.
A few flying pigs
Don't actually seem that strange
In your own dream world
So you believe it:
Everything did happen -
But not in real life.
As you part your eyes
From their regular slumber
Trying to make sense
(Not very easily done)
Of the recent scenes.
So you wake up glad
That your life turned out that way
But then to realise...
It was never real
It has never happened, ever
And just won't, ever.
That's what's odd in dreams -
It always seems so concrete;
Though just in your head.
[3 more words...]
Es ist schwierig genug,
Selbst zu verstanden
Geschweige die andere der Welt.
Aber das ist Leben.
Wahrend ein mehr schlagt Gluck
Ein mehr fuhlt aussen
Und innen gluckvoll,
Das Gleiche spurt innen,
Trotz, auch leer.
Warum? Konntest du fragen.
Weil das Gleiche
Ewig gewartet hat
Geduldig und frohlich,
Manchmal mit ein Sturm innen
Manchmal mit eine Maske aussen
Aber die Zug hat noch nicht gekommen.
Es soll hoffentlich hier bald sein,
Was sind die Chancen,
Wenn man drei Zugen in eine Stunde verpasst hat,
Eine Zug in ihre Leben zu erreichen.
Aber, es gibt Regenbogen in eine Seele mit Tranen.
Und keine Probleme fur die, die im Regen tanzen.
Well, this morning we ran out of orange juice.
Just like I've run out of creative juice.
It's sad really, putting it all into one place.
In this instance my music piece.
But I can still improvise fine.
(Though only on the black notes)
I just can't write that fine.
(Not that I ever really could anyway...)
I'm only writing in this style
To make it seem more thoughtful and considered.
Which it really isn't by the way.
I'm just putting each sentence on a new line.
Amazing huh, it makes it seem like I may actually have some creativity left...
Give up give up give up.
You know when you tell yourself to do something and then just ignore yourself? Or you find you just can't do it?
...those questions were kind of rhetorical...
I've got one friend flying, another flying in her own way and then I'm just gliding along beside them in my own way, just about managing to keep up with them.
I got a pocket, a pocket full of sunshine
Take it out and look at from time to time - I won't show you because you'll blind yourself. My own little pocket of sunshine.
Jazz it up!
Duh duh duh...duh
Duh duh duh...duh
Duh duh duh...duh
Duh duh duh...duh
Oh gravity is such a spoilsport.
Duh duh duh...duh
Oh man, it isn't collapsing...
*Stab* (duh) *Stab* (duh) *Stab* (duh)
There we go!
Now it's your turn!
*Fffff* (with crazed expression)
*Controlled fall* (with equally crazed expression)
Duh (face!) duh (face!) duh (face!) duh (face!) duh (face!) duh (face!)
Oh I do love slow-mo-death-by-lightsaber-scenes to a jazzed-up moonlight sonata. XD
I knew it would happen - I knew what would happen, which is why I was planning to split before. But on the bright side, no more exams and it's almost christmas! Sometimes I regret my choices, but I can't change anything so I'll just make the best of it. Hopefully my choices for next year won't turn out to be bad... (German, English Language, Classics, Latin) My lessons haven't been awful - music has WAY improved my confidence levels in terms of performing and it's an enjoyable subject that doesn't involve a lot of writing. Thankfully it was just a mock.
And it's returning to like before,
All the things from before
Things at the moment, turning back to how they were before,
Though slightly different, the lull of things before
Is coming back to break on the shore of the now.
Things are changing now
From nothing into everything now
Just you wait, now.
A lot of things are on the horizon - some that I don't wish to think about, others that I wish would obscure the other thoughts in my head and allow me to forget all the things I don't want to think about from before to concentrate on everything now.
Sitting in a room made up of big white walls, cards strewn across the table as we read the messages. Some are truly heartfelt and strike a chord even with those they're not meant for. Others, selfish twits, don't care one shot. They just did it for the neon treasure. They get put in a seperate pile. Precarious stacks grow by the minute. And then the last one is sorted. Dud cards: bin. The rest are collected and tied as if a gift, which they will be soon. Everything else is put in the bags and the door swings shut.
Traipsing along the street, maneuvering through the soft night air. An apricot glow from the streetlights shines down onto the street. Beats in ears, weight in hands.
Ahead, lumbers a silhouette heading in the same direction. If he had turned around, you wouldn't have been able to see his face, but it could have looked knarled and haggared by the years. Or it could have looked different. He could also have been heading to a pub, just for a drink, or a lit up window, just for a look.
So many possibilites, and I crossed the road, heading towards home.
So you're sitting there, feeling all comfortable and content - full stomach, warm atmosphere, blasting music, just thinking...
GET OUT OF MY HEAD.
It won't stop. Or move away.
Seriously, it doesn't stop.
Not when there's no distractions, anyway.
It's all the things you wish you could forget or bury, no matter how many times you imagine them sinking in a locked filing cabinet and being sealed over with concrete and chains.
I'd rather other things at the front of my mind, thank you.
I carry on thinking and the lights just pass me by.
And the stars twinkle.
Sometimes the voice of the world will tries tell you something... It dances in a stripy, neon ensemble with lots of arrows and flashing lights, right in your face to give you advice, at times. Though often it's a bit busy flashing for someone else's attention, so you have to work stuff out for yourself. It's a bit weird being given advice by a metaphor, but if it's good advice, who's complaining? It has definitely visited me on a fair few occaisons, flashing and clamoring. The world must be busy, giving people signs - there's a lot of people to signal.
A deep melody awash with idiosyncratic tone, expelled into the air. You can almost see the molecules dancing along, bumping each other as they move in time to the captivating tune. Smile to yourself, fastened gaze. And then it is still. The molecules have now been wrapped in fleecy blankets - maybe even with polar bears on them, if they like that kind of thing - and are about ready to fall asleep, under the stars, when a cascade of approval breaks out and drenches them, accompanied by rumbles of praise under the tumultous applause.
And then you return to the present.
Standing and waiting. The sun's rays flowing accross the world, meaning unneeded layers are discarded.
Approaching, stopping. Shifting the weight to the other foot, shoulders back.
Show off. A lot has changed. Memories of such a sweet boy...
Then they dart up and down, an apple could fit in that hole.
Approaching, stopping. The artificial light blaring accross the space. Looking ahead, towards the crowd.
Standing and waiting. In mid-conversation, grinning. Turning to see the new arrival
Wondering where to stand.
Then they dart up and down, a banana appearing.
With a flick, shuffle and turn,
Carry on conversing
Hey there big guy, it's been a while
Now, and yes you've made me smile
So much and brightened some questionable
Days, but now's the time to end the battle
Within my mind - how it's been addled -
You sometimes seem to bristle
And I find your actions totally unidentifiable:
I would love to wile
Away the time until we're senile
But I don't think that that'll
Really happen, do you? It's notable
That I'm being realistic here - stuck in the middle
Is no place to be, trying to answer an unanswerable,
mistakable and infallible riddle
Maybe what she said was indubitable
But this is just too unfathomable -
Is that fair and reasonable?
Watch the stars above your head
And just think of the things they're hiding,
For they must be hiding something,
Clutched by the raven fist of the night
Those stars are comforting and estranging
And however much we like to think it,
We are not part of the world up there
(If there is one to be part of - if there are
Martian or Venetian or Plutonian beings
Waiting for us to catch up.)
There's a lot that could be hidden within those stars
And I know they're hiding something,
Will we find out sometime soon?
I don't know, how long is a piece of string?
- Excuse me, do you know how to get to Ashdon Road?
- Um, from here, you go down the road to the mini roundabout (which is, incidentally, right next to the place where I learned to ride a bike without stableisers) and turn left (if you turned right you'd end up going to the place where I learned to read...) then down the road (past the garage, where I buy milk when we run out, and the used-to-be-scrapyard where I would watch the diggers), straight on at the crossroads, up the common and turn right. And that's Ashdon Road.
It's funny how people all assume the way they live their own lives is normal and everyone else is doing it weirdly. For instance, isn't it normal to have a dad that almost dies at least once a month? To have a godfather that has a calender of half-naked men in his toilet? To be able to read and spell, and to actually enjoy reading? To live in a house on one side of a very busy road with no proper crossing point so you can't go anywhere at all until you've learnt to cross it? Is it not?
I've never really been someone who has had to worry that much about school or put as much effort in or experience as much disappointment as other people, but I think that may be starting to change. People who are just as clever, or even less so, as me are doing better because they're working their arses off more than I am; my hat off to them. It seems I can't just rely on my natural abilities any longer - I'm going to actually have to start working now. Maybe I could also apply this frame of mind to athletics training...
Supposedly, the way you decorate reflects your personality...
In my room, the walls are painted with green, blue and white stripes, not many of which are visible as they're covered with a variety of posters, pictures and bookshelves (On which the books are arranged alphabetically by author). The red carpet is just visible under a layer of my strewn posessions, which are occasionally cleared up so you can see the yellow rug I remember buying with my family when I was about 5.
So, I should be stripy, arty, well-read, OCD, messy and sentimental. I think that about covers it.
I'm sensing a pivotal point, where if I don't do anything, I will kick myself forever. But am I going to blow it? I have only decided recenty what I want to be when I'm older and here is something perfect for practice - so why am I so holding back? It's the NBG Emerging Translators Programme - you have to translate a short story and then 6 people're chosen to translate a book. Out of the many people applying, I doubt I'd get in, being a not-so-fluent-german-speaker not yet out of fulltime education.
I can only try.
I think I've found what I want to do: Translating. It's like cracking a code or a puzzle, almost like a game - a sudoku with words. If I can play games for a living, I'm game. Though, I think it would be quite lonely: stuck in front of a computer at home by myself for hours on end. No work colleagues, no new aquaintances. I'd have to meet up with people regularly, or risk going insane. Now, after a few hours in german-mode my brain has been thoroughly mullered. Nevertheless, I probably still won't be able to sleep tonight.
Shopping's never really been my kind of scene, though I always love to spend a few hours browsing in Waterstones. So let me rephrase that, clothes shopping really isn't my kind of scene. It may be fun for some people, but I just don't really get into it - it's tiring and makes your feet hurt; all for throwing away your hard earned life savings, for fun. I sometimes feel slightly guilty not enjoying shopping, because I think my mum wishes I did, sometimes. I would try and embrace my feminine side slightly more, but it's not my kind of scene.
24th of December. The night after the 23rd, and the one before the 25th. The night of last minute wrapping and sticking and dropping all the sticky-tape you didn't manage to cut off one-handed randomly onto the carpet. The night of spitting out all the sticky-tape you tried to bite off while holding the roll with one hand and your knees (after failing with the scissors) onto the carpet. It's the month of wasted sticky-tape, December. There is never a time when you don't mess up at least one piece of sticky-tape when wrapping presents.
Santa overslept and didn't manage to arrive,
he apologises for the delay.
Even though the elves were up all night
Preparing Santa's sleigh.
There is another reason why Santa didn't come this year,
Or the copious times before that -
It's because he's realised you can't tell the difference
When your parents are clad in Santa's hat.
He's got them all in collaboration
They're all in on the plan
Santa can't travel the globe this Christmas night
Because he's too old a man.
Creaky joints don't do you any favours
When travelling in a sleigh
So just don't expect presents from Santa
On any following Christmas days.
I managed to finish an almost 500 page book yesterday without being anti-social. I also got some new green WeSC headphones (I love them), allowing me to be anti-social for the next few years. Life's good. I also have a lot more books to read between now and the end of the holidays - good thing I enjoy reading so much! Although I might save one or two books until February, so I don't get too bored sitting around at the airport all alone... You have no idea how scared I am at the prospect of flying by myself.
I've been thinking about new years resolutions:
1. Wear my retainers!
2. Work harder in every subject, even if I'm hating it.
3. I'm going to go for the cliche eat less chocolate.
4. Start going to bed earlier and waking up earlier.
5. Save my money for Youth Hostelling.
6. I will dedicate more time to learning Russian and Japanese.
7. I will try and do more exercise.
8. I will try and get a job, or take up delivering leaflets again.
9. Make more effort to be less anti-social.
10. I will enjoy every minute of 2011.
Youth Hostelling Plan
--> ALFRISTON (£10.50)
--> TELSCOMBE (£10.50)
--> BRIGHTON (BUS=£3.00)
--> TRULEIGH HILL (£13.50)
--> ARUNDEL (£12)
--> LITTLEHAMPTON (£12)
(Walk just around 10 miles/16km each day)
ROUTE1) Eastbourne > Arundel [£70.50 YH; £33.40 Train; £26 Coach]
TRAIN = £103.90
BUS = £96.50 (7 nights)
ROUTE2) Brighton > Arundel [£49.50 YH; £36.10 Train; £22.10 Coach]
TRAIN = £85.60
BUS = £71.60 (4 nights)
ROUTE3) Littlehampton > Brighton [£51 YH; £36.10 Train; £24.80 Coach]
TRAIN = £87.10
BUS = £75.80 (4 nights)
Best start saving...
I think I may be going crazy. Although, if I can admit it, does that mean I'm not? Some people who know me may be sitting there thinking, "Hey, she got something right" - but I mean properly mental. Not just acting weird.
I keep seeing things when they're not there and hearing noises and things like that. I either have a very enthusiastic paranormal friend, or I'm crazy.
And this isn't the glimmer-in-the-corner-of-your-eye stuff, this is properly-looking-at-it-for-a long-time-so-you're-absolutely-sure-it-was-there-before kind of stuff.
I went to Harlow today, firstly to exchange a top, but secondly to visit someone who has terminal cancer. It could happen to anyone. So if I ever die without writing a will (ie. I get hit by a bus tomorrow) please bury me with a tree over my grave; I'd like to be reincarnated as a tree. And choose one you think looks like me (though please don't choose a bonsai - I'm not that short!) And no songs like Stairway to Heaven at the funeral please - so cliche! Just remember, you can never go wrong with the Cat Empire...
2010: A year of firsts,
Of mirth -
Definitely a year of worth.
Vivid memories are
Fields of joy in the reveries.
A year of fire
To finish exams
And get out in the sun
Until the rain
Descends in tons,
With buckets above
Being constantly tipped.
But is it actually raining?
Dance through it -
Jump the furthest, Work the hardest,
Love the most.
A year of walking and talking and
Sorting through everything
I'll remember the people,
Remember the times
I wish I could live it again and again
For it's the happiest I've ever been.
In all my years on this earth
Ever since the day of my birth.
The Tip Jar